North Wales was originally a kingdom pacified by Lancer through force.
Because the local nobles who had previously governed the land outwardly obeyed Lancer, they were always looking for any opportunity to weaken the king's power and enrich their own interests.
From the beginning they did the same under Rience as well. Rience was likewise a king who ruled by force, with no real traditions behind him—just like Lancer.
Since Roman Britain, the island had been riven by continuous wars, so most kingdoms possessed little in the way of true dynastic legitimacy.
Of course, there were dynasties with genuine tradition—like those in Wales, Orkney, and Cornwall.
The prime example was the House Pendragon. "Pendragon" was originally the title granted to Britain's rulers; though the name itself changed over the centuries, the bloodline of the Artorias was always born to rule Britain.
Few knew this, however—they only recognized the grandeur of the House Pendragon.
And after all, the House was merely the head of an alliance of nations on the island of Britain, not a truly unified dynasty.
Thus the nobles with long-standing traditions in each region did not welcome the royal family. At best they acknowledged those with genuine lineage, like the Fisher King of Wales or Lord Lot of Orkney.
North Wales was not one of those. Wales, at least, had a considerable fairy population, and the Fisher King's line had protected it for generations.
By contrast, North Wales was a realm whose monarchs and royal authority repeatedly changed hands due to invasions by the Irish and the Picts.
Hence the nobles loathed royal power. It was the same under Rience—no one knew when the king might be replaced. Even if the current reign lasted, Lancer was still an outsider in their eyes.
Still, he was of the Pendragon line and had defeated Galehaut, king of the Irish isles. As a ruler he was more capable than Rience had been, so they had tolerated him to a degree.
To those nobles, the mysterious man who rolled in out of nowhere and seized real power at the castle—Kay—was both a thorn and a tempting prey.
"I hear he's nothing but a vulgar cook from Tintagel."
"Her Majesty the Queen is completely bewitched by that man? And I've heard he surrounds himself with wanton women and spends every night in debauchery."
"Tsk tsk. Her Majesty's perfect reason has clouded. We must expose that vile man's true nature and open her eyes."
The nobles met in secret. They decided Kay was a power-hungry traitor who reveled in women's favors.
News that Kay had defeated Taquin had long since spread, but most refused to believe it or instead derided Taquin's fall.
Because Kay was a Saxon. In regions like the North or North Wales, the Saxons had done almost no harm.
The real enemies of North Wales were the Irish and the Picts, and in the far north Pictish and other forces kept the Saxons at bay. Their foes were the Picts, Norway, and the Danish kingdoms.
Hence they dismissed the Saxons as merely numerous, troublesome barbarians.
Typical of nobles who had never set foot on a battlefield.
A few days later, at the regular assembly held in the royal castle.
Duke Bol, the chief of the regional nobles, strode arrogantly to block Kay's path. Kay stood there in a mud-stained apron, checking on the carrots for lunch.
"Good day, Sir Kay. Or should I call you Chef?"
Duke Bol fanned himself and sneered openly.
"I understand you enjoy Her Majesty's favor, but politics in North Wales is an art far beyond wielding ladles in a kitchen. One with no noble bloodline or philosophical grounding has no business meddling in state affairs…"
"Ah, pardon me, Duke."
Kay interrupted, flicking dirt off a carrot.
"I've got the fire going just right for carrot soup at noon. If you have any drivel to spout, save it for later. If the soup overflows, Lancer will complain."
"What…?!"
Paying no mind to the duke, Kay strode past him, carrot basket in hand. The nobles watched his retreating back with slack jaws—a perfect display of indifference.
"That wretched man…!"
Duke Bol's face flashed red as he prepared to retort, when suddenly…
Crack crack!
The marble floor beneath the duke's feet split open in an instant.
He sensed a murderous aura behind him, as though his throat would be torn apart. When he turned, two women stood there who had not been moments before.
Lancer and Alter.
The emerald eyes of the two House Pendragon sisters glinted so fiercely it was as if they would devour the duke whole.
"…Those words you spat at my brother just now—shall I tear your lips off, Duke Bol?"
Lancer's emerald gaze was cold and abyssal, the gracious queen gone, replaced by a furious dragon guarding her sacred wrath.
"O-Your Majesty, there must be some misunderstanding! I only—sent that obscure man to assist with state affairs…"
"This swine clearly wants our brother dead."
Alter drew her sword and pressed it to the duke's neck. The blade's chill cut lightly into his flesh, and blood welled forth.
"My brother is the noblest man in the world. A pig like you has no right to even utter his name. Shall I pull out your tongue and feed it to the swine?"
"Eek…!"
"Today my brother has gone off to cook in good spirits, so we'll spare your life. But there will be no next time."
Lancer halted Alter's hand and, looking down on the trembling duke, passed a sentence harsher than death.
Duke Bol and the nobles fled in panic, but their folly did not end there.
'Violence won't work. The king has been completely brainwashed by that man. Then… we'll exploit his weakness for women!'
Foolishly, Duke Bol was convinced the many beauties around Kay meant he was a womanizer—oblivious to the fact those women were madly obsessed with Kay themselves.
That night.
A quiet corridor as Kay returned alone to his chambers.
"Oh… please help me, Sir…"
In a dark corner lit by moonlight, a woman lay collapsed.
She was the high-class courtesan and assassin secretly hired by Duke Bol, famed in North Wales for her beauty.
She wore a thin silk dress that revealed her bosom, scented herself with an alluring perfume, and tearfully wiped her cheeks.
"Hmm? And who might you be? A retainer of the castle?"
As Kay approached, the assassin cried out in her heart and clung to his leg.
"Sob… I sprained my ankle. Please, won't you escort me to my room? I vow to repay this kindness with my very life…"
She pressed her ample chest against his leg, looking up with seductive eyes—a perfect temptation to turn any man into a beast.
However, the man she clung to was, of all people, Kay.
Kay sniffed and frowned down at her expressionlessly.
"You've used so much perfume my head aches. And why wear such thin clothing? Intending to catch a cold?"
"W-What? No… it's just so hot… haa, if you hugged me I'd warm up…"
As Elara's desperate seduction continued, Kay scowled harshly.
"If you're hot, drink cold water. And you're not my type—you're all skin and bone. A woman should eat plenty of meat and be sturdy and healthy like the others here. Now go to the kitchen, get a bowl of meat broth, then head to the infirmary."
"Yes?!"
Kay treated the would-be assassin like a starving stray cat, shrugged off her arm, and continued on his way.
She stood frozen, mouth agape in humiliation and disbelief.
Then, a bone-chilling cold began to creep through the lonely corridor.
Sss~
"Oh my. From which gutter rat did this filthy stench cling to our shining sun?"
A sweet yet horrifying voice came from behind her.
She turned her head, paralyzed by terror.
At the end of the moonlit hallway.
Tamamo-no-Mae, fox ears twitching as she toyed with an ofuda.
Jeanne d'Arc Alter, eyes blazing with black flames and laughing cruelly.
And Medusa, having removed her blindfold, coldly spinning her chain and spike.
Surrounded by monsters who loved Kay blindly, the assassin who had targeted him found herself utterly trapped.
"How dare you taint Master's robes with that filthy perfume? Insolent wench."
Jeanne Alter snarled, spewing black flames.
"Eek! S-Save me! I was only following Duke Bol's orders…!"
"Oh? And who do you say hired you?" Medusa whispered as she tightened her chain around the woman's throat.
"Tell that foolish duke what fate befalls those who dare test our master's patience."
That same night, at Duke Bol's grand mansion on the outskirts of North Wales.
The duke sat drinking wine, waiting for the assassin to bring scandal upon Kay.
KRAK!!!
Suddenly the mansion's great gate exploded as if struck by cannon fire.
"W-What is the meaning of this?!"
The duke rushed outside to see dozens of soldiers in his garden lying dead in their blood.
Through the shattered gate walked two women backlit by a red moon.
Alter in one hand wielding a black holy sword.
Lancer in the other holding her radiant holy spear.
"Yo-Your Majesties?! And you too, Alter? What business brings you here so late?!"
Duke Bol turned pale and fell to his knees.
At Lancer's feet lay the assassin, bound tightly and foaming at the mouth, unconscious.
"Duke Bol."
Lancer's voice was calm and cold as the storm before it.
"You dared to send a low-born courtesan to insult my beloved brother and rightful lord of North Wales."
"M-Misunderstanding! I did not…!"
"Begging is for the damned. The sight, the stench of your contempt on my brother's garments are enough. Your lands will burn."
Alter lightly raised her holy sword.
A surge of dark magic and one wing of the mansion was sliced clean as tofu. The duke screamed in agony as he collapsed.
"P-Please spare me, Your Majesties! I was mad! I'll return all my wealth and lands, just spare my life!"
The duke wept and pounded his head on the ground.
Lancer lifted the duke's chin with her speartip, eyes as cold as ice.
"My brother abhors needless bloodshed at the table. Your life is spared."
Behind Lancer, Tamamo-no-Mae stepped forth, tail swaying, and threw dozens of scrolls onto the duke's face.
"In exchange, I have perfectly reclaimed all the duke's illicit assets and lands for the royal treasury. Henceforth you will live as a commoner, tilling a field and singing praises to your lord's greatness."
By dawn, every noble faction in North Wales who had opposed Kay was, quite literally, erased.
There were no political struggles or negotiations—only the merciless hammer of monsters enraged for their man's honor.
Truly, a Briton's solution: might is justice and all there is.
The next morning.
Kay hummed a tune as he emerged from the kitchen, frying pan in hand.
In the courtyard before the castle, Duke Bol and dozens of former nobles knelt trembling, dressed in rags.
"What on earth? Why are those old fellows crying over there?"
Kay asked innocently. Lancer and Alter clung to his sides with angelic smiles and replied.
"They are atoning for the greatness of our brother's cooking last night by willingly renouncing all their privileges."
"Exactly. No need to fret—they wept tears of gratitude because his cooking was so delicious. So what did we have for breakfast today?"
"…Oh? Well, I'm glad it suited your tastes."
Kay shrugged but smiled gently, patting his sisters' heads as he headed to the dining hall.
True to form, he was utterly uninterested in politics; his sole concern was cooking delicious meals for the girls.
Meanwhile, the nobles left behind watched his retreating figure, realizing with bitter clarity that the true ruler was the man who had tamed those fearsome monsters.
Thus, an odd yet perfectly stable peace under Kay's rule settled over North Wales.
Meanwhile.
The messengers Lancer had sent.
Many of the finest horse-riding couriers from North Wales arrived at their various destinations.
The Wild Hunt, a mercenary band conducting a northern tour.
"Is this truly fact?"
"Indeed! It is guaranteed by His Majesty the Lion King!"
"I see… it both saddens and reassures me. Relay my intent: I shall visit soon."
"Yes!"
Lancer Alter, captain of the Wild Hunt, replied to the messenger, then immediately changed her next destination to North Wales.
Meanwhile, the messenger headed for Arthur's army.
The messenger was ambushed by a young knight of Arthur's army.
"Guh… why…?"
The knight pierced the messenger's chest, killing him instantly. And the girl who stood smiling innocently over the corpse.
"Mission complete!"
["Ah, well done~"]
A parrot flew toward the girl.
["If the message reached Artoria, things would get complicated. Soon a new nation, Logres, will be founded and its capital Camelot built. We can't have any needless interference."]
"As you say! The king is preparing a great undertaking! But what message did the messenger bear?"
["Oh, trivial~ It's that Kay has returned."]
"Kay? So that must mean…"
["Yes, the nurse who raised you as a baby—your foster mother, Hippolyta? Something like that."]
"Ah~ you mean the person you mentioned before. Then is she my godmother?"
["Well, she is godmother before me?"]
"Hee… is that so?"
["Yes, that's the thing."]
"Hmm, but Merlin says she's a bad person, right? I don't like the idea of her being my godmother!"
Merlin.
He was not present now. Around the time Kay returned from the Labyrinthine Realm, he vanished. No one in Arthur's army was surprised—he had shirked duty and run off before.
And the girl standing before his familiar parrot messenger, Gareth.
The child of a fairy and of the Pendragon bloodline had grown enough by age seven to appear as in her early teens. Her rapid childhood growth aside, her lifespan remained that of a normal human.
After Kay vanished, Gareth's upbringing fell entirely to Merlin. Exhausted by Kay's absence and Arthur's expedition, Artoria and Lily had little time for her; her brother Gawain likewise had to entrust her care to Merlin.
["Now, before returning, wash your face. Wipe off the blood."]
"Yes!"